


Erasure

by CainReprobus (orphan_account)



Series: The Knight Slept [3]
Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CainReprobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you live upon a star,<br/>Makes no difference who you are.<br/>Anyone you've ever known<br/>Can still find you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nhitori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nhitori/gifts).



> Please read [The Knight Slept](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4925032) and through chapter 19 of [The Knight Slept (After)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4954798/chapters/11376751) before reading this! Otherwise you might not really understand. ; u ; Enjoy!

When he got to Holiday Star, Anghel was okay.

It had taken him a very long time to become okay. Over time, his mental wounds closed. They never fully healed, as deep gashes never do, but were coated in thin but sufficient scar tissue. He became comfortable with holding Yuuya’s hand again. Eventually, he even kissed him again.

If it weren't for Yuuya, Anghel didn't know where he would be. His lover’s support was worth the world to him, and it seemed that to Yuuya, being the one supporting him was equally as valuable. 

Through a large portion of their years, Yuuya had pretended that nothing had happened, at least not on his end. When Anghel's traumas reared their ugly heads, he was always there with gentle words and as much physical attention as Anghel wanted and could handle. However, as soon as Yuuya's guilt and remorse began to creep up on him, it was nothing. He was fine, he would assure with a crooked smile and dull eyes, and Anghel would leave him alone. He knew he wanted that… but he could always hear him cry.

The love they shared was pure. Far more so than that of their kings.

Though it seemed that all was well on Holiday Star, perhaps it was that impure love that led to a clear divide between the courts. Aside from Nageki, whom Anghel hung out with rather often, the Dark Court kept mostly to themselves. Hitori, of course, knew everything that had gone down between the the angel and his love, but Yuuya was not inclined to let this secret he'd kept with him for decades suddenly be revealed.

He much preferred that Hiyoko be worried about him because he’s been distant, rather than have her keep distance of her own due to what he’s done. That Sakuya be bitter for being abandoned, rather than sickened to be related to a murderer.

That could stay in the past. The present was hard enough.

On this particular day, though, things were looking bright. Anghel had made plans with Nageki, so Yuuya stayed at home and slept in. This wasn't uncommon, but it was one of the few times the two were ever seen apart. 

Today's conversation seemed livelier than it usually was. Nageki was being oddly talkative.

"You know… I noticed something about this train, Higure," Nageki started quietly, not lifting his eyes from _A Pitying of Doves, A Birder Murder Mystery_ , "It's kind of interesting. Probably the first interesting thing I've noticed since I got here."

"Do tell, Eternal Scholar," Anghel impelled, leaning forward and giving Nageki his ear. His Anghelisms had slowly faded back into his vocabulary over time, something which Yuuya was very grateful for, "My Crimson Breast senses prophecy, and for that reason I desire to hear this aforementioned point of intrigue."

Nageki shrugged and started musing, "This train, well, it makes rounds."

Anghel furrowed his brow and twirled a piece of his hair, nibbling slightly on the end of it as he talked, "What mean you by that, Caller? Do not all trains make rounds?"

"Well, I never really considered this train to be the type to do that. I figured it just went on an infinite path and that each one we see is a new one. I thought they just kept coming."

"Hmm… Astrologer, you make a valid point! I trust you, as you reside daily within this Aveskellar of Chaos, but I do request that you explain this in greater detail. Upon passing through the Gates of Erebus, I was surprised to find myself on Fate's Locomotive and desire to absorb your wisdom as to the forces that guide it."

Nageki took a moment to decipher.

_He… wants to know my reasoning, right?_

"...Alright. I can explain more, I guess." He closed his book—a shocking action—and began, "Recently, I met an interesting traveller. When he got off here, he told me he was shocked by this star's existence. I asked him why... I was a little curious."

Anghel continued playing with his hair, lips pursed in deep thought, "Curious indeed... Why would there not be a star in the Endless Spatial Void?"

"That's what I said… sort of. He told me something I wasn't expecting: that he'd been in this area of the galaxy before, but back then there was no Holiday Star,” Nageki paused to gauge how Anghel was reacting, but he didn’t seem to have caught on yet, “This time, there obviously was… but if he hadn’t left the train, yet had been here before, wouldn’t that mean he had to have completed some sort of… loop?”

Anghel seemed to understand now and stared intently into Nageki's eyes, fascinated with this new revelation, "I see... so you believe that Fate's Locomotive may travel in a circular fashion, perhaps around a hidden tenth ring of Hell?" His face grew pale and he stared at the palm of his hand. Whatever he was going through, it seemed to be important.

Nageki raised an eyebrow and it seemed like the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile, "I didn't really say that last part… but I guess it's a possibility. Can’t say I asked the guy… I guess he decided to stay here though, because I haven’t seen him si-”

With a dramatic gasp of pain, Anghel suddenly snapped out of his moment, clutching at his chest and dropping to his knees.

"O Caller of the Phosphorescent Stars! You must now have received the vision!” Anghel pulled a pen out of _somewhere_ , and a folded paper from a pocket in his vest, "Saekro'm guide me! I shall immediately map this Fated Route of which you speak. Come, Textoris Melodia Funus—share with me the necessary spoils!"

Nageki blinked. That came out of nowhere… a delayed reaction, perhaps? He shrugged, "...Okay. I think I know what you mean... I haven't actually had a vision or anything but I guess I can kind of tell you what I theorize it might look like…”

So the two friends took a seat on the ground, Anghel scribbling away as Nageki tried to explain the circular route he believed the train took, using the gems on his planisphere as reference. 

“You see… this diamond is Holiday Star, so if we’re to believe the train goes this way… Mm, yeah. Sort of like that.”

It was a calm afternoon.

“Ooh! How magnificent! You have yet to guide anyone astray, dear scholar… but the fate of all adventurers lies in the accuracy of this map… _Guh!_ I- I misplaced a line! Caller, it is _I_ who puts them in danger!”

...as calm as an afternoon with Anghel could get.

Meanwhile, Yuuya was finally getting his ass out of bed. He'd awakened somewhat melancholy, opting to simply watch TV alone instead of going outside. Television was strange on Holiday Star. Like books, it consisted only of memories and the local news. Some Spanish soap opera was playing, and Yuuya pretended to watch. Mostly, he was caught up in his thoughts and worries. Would Anghel be okay..?

He shook his head. Anghel was with Nageki. He would be fine.

As the afternoon rolled into evening, the two collaborating artists Nageki heard a whistle in the distance, "Hey, Higure… I think I heard the train."

"Perfect!" Anghel announced, adding a few finishing touches to his map before holding it up triumphantly, "Shall we deliver it before the Locomotive's conductor and have him confirm its genuinity?"

Nageki shrugged and squinted at the train, getting up from his spot on the ground and stretching out his arms, "I guess so. Anyway, there seem to be some dreamers here tonight…” He noticed a bright light, the symbol of a passenger who had no planisphere to speak of, “...and I think someone's here to stay? Hang on a bit while I get everything settled."

Putting on a soft smile that he had only started to use since coming to the star, Nageki stood up straight as the train pulled into the station. The new arrivals stepped off, mostly dull and shadowy as many dreamers tended to be, but one stood out from all the rest. Dead. Nageki could tell.

"Hello, welcome to Holiday Sta-"

Anghel made a choked noise and a pen clattered to the floor. Nageki held a finger up to tell the newcomers to wait, turning around to see what had happened. He had not moved from where he was sitting. In fact, aside from dropping his pen, Anghel had not moved an inch. His eyes were trained directly on the new potential star resident, and it seemed that he was frozen in time itself.

"Higure..." Nageki muttered, nudging him lightly in the shoulder with his foot, "Are you okay?" As though he'd been punched, Anghel jerked his arm back and it became clear that something was terribly wrong. Nervously, Nageki addressed the passengers, "Er, I'm sorry… We're experiencing some… difficulties in the royal court. Uh… Give me a moment, if you would..."

Before he could talk to Anghel further, the dead man spoke up, turning his lips into a pompous, twisted smile.

"I've been riding this train for quite a while, now... This star was not here before! It's quite beautiful, but...” His eyes fell directly onto Anghel and Nageki shuddered with a strange sense of dread, “...it's clear that the star itself is not the most beautiful thing I can see."

The fallen angel, immobile in his cage of ice, unfroze.

"N- Nageki." He gasped, voice somewhat strained, "I gotta go. See you later. Adieu."

Without any further words, Anghel scrambled hastily to his feet, barely managing to gain his balance before he was out of the station and out of Nageki's sight. Confused and distressed, Nageki sighed nervously and looked up at the crowd of equally confused dreamers.

"...I apologize. Something is wrong. I, uh, have to make a call... Hold on." Nageki rummaged in his pocket for a barely-used cell phone and dialed an even less-used number. It rang three times before there was an answer.

"Fujishiro, _salut_!" Yuuya greeted, carefree as ever, "How are you, and how is _mon amour_...?"

"That's what I'm calling about, actually," Nageki fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt, eyes trained dazedly on his cufflinks, "The train just got here and he ran off in a panic. He was talking really weird. Well… really normal, I guess."

There was a short silence on the other end and Yuuya's voice grew solemn, the kind of calm you learn to fear, "Who just got off the train? Just dreamers?"

Nageki shook his head before realizing Yuuya couldn't see, "Nah... Some dead guy too.”

He couldn't quite catch it, but it seemed as though Yuuya whispered "no" and something else incomprehensible into the receiver before his tone grew panicked, " _Fujishiro,_ answer me _now_. What does the dead man look like?"

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Nageki looked up to check, but... where did he go?

"Um… He was a freaky looking dude. Long hair. Ugly clothes. But… Sakazaki... he's gone."

" _Fuck!_ "

Nageki heard a crash, then three beeps, and pulled the phone away from his ear. 'Call Ended.' Dread was filling him faster than he ever thought it could, and quickly... he connected all the dots. Blood seemed to be pounding in his ears. Whoever this man was, he had done something terrible to Anghel Higure.

"Dreamers," Nageki said urgently, turning to face them as quickly as he could, "I'll be back as soon as possible… Please, enjoy your stay."

Leaving the baffled dreamers behind, he whirled around and darted off the platform, disappearing into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuya threw his phone against the wall with an alarming crack, stumbling back from where he'd been standing and clutching his now-swirling head. No. No. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

Holiday Star was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be okay. None of this was supposed to be happening. But he really couldn't be surprised, could he?

Fate had decreed he'd never reach the afterlife, after all. What could he truly expect but hell? He laughed bitterly, smiling in a twisted sort of way. Anghel made Hell seem a lot more fun than it was.

He should be running, being the hero. Immediately darting out the door and searching for him, finding him and assuring him he would be okay. But Yuuya Sakazaki couldn't move, he only clutched his arms as though shivering and took a couple heaving breaths.

 _He's dead. I killed him. But_ we're _dead. What can I even do?_

Yuuya often felt he shouldn't have killed them. There had to have been another way. He had acted in a state of rage and broken every oath he'd ever made. To Leone. To the police force. Yuuya's frozen panic melted quickly into rage at his own idiocy and he swung back his arm—and stopped.

He'd been about to punch the wall. Unlike Leone's wall, this one was solid concrete. It would not be wise to punch it. Besides. Leone wouldn't have wanted him to. He would have wanted him to remain calm.

Trembling, Yuuya walked over to the wall and picked up his phone. It was, unsurprisingly, shattered. Wordlessly, he put it down, feeling around on the nearby coffee table for his glasses. He slid them onto his nose and took a deep breath.

_Nageki knows. I know. Anghel will be okay._

But he was lying to himself, he was absolutely lying.

Grabbing his coat, he burst out the door, leaving it swinging open behind him. Towards the train station was his best bet, but if Anghel had started running and Tohri had gone after him, there was a high chance he wouldn't keep the lead for long. Yuuya was surprised, actually, that he'd been able to run at all.

"Anghel," Yuuya murmured as he stepped onto the street, whipping his head back and forth until he remembered which direction the train station was in, " _Anghel!_ "

He didn't notice her, but Hiyoko sure noticed Yuuya. She even said his name quizzically as he darted past her, but he was clearly in too much of a hurry to pay attention. Hiyoko rubbed her chin. He hadn't been that full of energy since he got here. Either something was going amazingly well, or something was going horribly wrong.

Judging from the pain in his voice when he cried his lover's name, she safely assumed it was the latter. Her hunter-gatherer blood boiled and she took off in hot pursuit.

* * *

"Ahh, Miss Agaki, was it? I thought I'd never have a chance to see you again."

Anghel had been cornered in some dreamy-looking alley, finding himself pressed against the cobbled brick wall. Tohri himself was not physically restraining him. Not this time. Not yet. But after everything that had happened, all the times his face had plagued his nightmares and he'd relived the worst times of his life, he couldn't help but keep himself as far away from him as possible. His entire body was shaking, his hands sweating, and ears ringing. It had been decades. Literally decades since he had last had to see the devil's face.

But now, it smiled at him and took slow steps closer. The demon spores. Saekro'm. It was all gone in this moment. Right then, he was Yoshio Agaki.

No. Worse. To The Devil, he was Yoshiko.

"Don't worry, _darling_ ," Tohri purred, a strange sort of malice glimmering in his beady golden eyes, "I'm not here to hurt you. Not this time. Not yet. There's one more thing I have to do before I can restore you to your... former beauty."

"N- No, _please_ ," Anghel squeaked, barely audible even in the relative silence, "H- Haven't you done enough?" His words melted into quiet, terrified sobs and he winced as Tohri finally came all too close.

The devil approached the angel, leaning close to him and putting his arm against the wall. Using his other hand, he gently stroked Anghel's face, slowly moving it to cover his mouth. Now muffled, Anghel's already quiet whimpers were barely even audible, and Tohri murmured a long, patronizing, "Shhhh..." He took his other hand, then, and softly, meticulously pushed the bandages away from his victim's eye.

"Mm. Much better."

Anghel's tears ran down his face and onto Tohri's hand, and he laughed. It was pathetic how easily he could break him all over again. Clearly, he never did grow a spine, "Done enough? _Au contraire!_ Your little boyfriend interrupted our time together. He cut things _far_ too short..." While he spoke, he pulled a scarflike ribbon out of his hair, using it to bind Anghel's hands together,. Upon doing so, he roughly pulled him a few feet to the side of the alley, tying his hands to a nearby pipe. As though he'd somehow planned this all, he pulled sash from his waist to gag him, "I won't have done enough to even get _started_ until I take care of him. So you're going to wait here, aren't you?"

The response he received was simply more sobbing. Tohri was more than okay with that.

"Good girl. I don't think you have a choice. You look beautiful like that, you know..." Tohri cooed, "But in due time, I can make you perfection. This time. I won't be stopped."

With a flashy and pompous wave, Tohri whirled around, his leopard cape billowing behind him as he walked out of the alley.

"As that wretched boy of yours so often says... _adieu, mon amie_. If you're lucky, I'll spare him long enough to tell you the same."


	3. The Fantastic Storybook

Once upon a time, there was a golden pheasant.

The pheasant was a lover of all things beautiful. His imagination soared higher than the sky itself, and he knew he had the best in the world. He painted the sky red when he was happy, and he painted the ground white when he was sad. The art he created was the world itself, he simply made his mark.

He was a genius. Such a genius.

In his spare time, the pheasant collected flowers. The prettiest flowers he could find. He took them home, painted them red and white, and then he tore their petals off. It made them beautiful.

Poor flowers.  
Poor flowers.

One day, the pheasant found a stunning crimson poppy. It was prettier than any flower he had ever seen in his life. Carefully, he snatched it up, and he vowed he would never let it go. He painted it as he painted the others. White, and when he was done, he painted it back to shining red.

He waited before he plucked it's petals. It had so much potential to be more. He wanted it to be as gorgeous as it could be before he killed it. It was a unique flower.

A poppy in a field of rye.

It would be a beautiful death. So beautiful.

Poor poppy.  
Poor poppy.

When the pheasant left his house to pick flowers one day, he stumbled across a humongous thorny bush, blocking the path to his favorite meadow. It was covered head to toe in purple roses, many of which were wilted. Ugly. So ugly.

"Bush, you are being rude," he told it, "I need to go pick poppies."

The bush told him, "You took my poppy."  
The bush told him, "I want it back."

The pheasant was a liar, so he lied.

"I don't know what you mean. I do not take poppies that belong to rose bushes."

But the rose bush was smart. It knew that the pheasant was a liar. It's branches unravelled and the violet roses fell to the ground. The pheasant tried to run, but the thorny tendrils wrapped around him.

He had just wanted to make art. This wasn't beautiful at all. This bush was not art. This bush should die. If only this bush would die.

The branches constricted around him until the pheasant disappeared.

Poor pheasant.  
Poor pheasant.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuya, unfortunately, was going all too fast for Hiyoko to catch up with him. In fact, after around two minutes, she lost track of where he was completely. His speed, though, made her even more certain that something was horribly wrong. Nervously, she attempted to hone her hunter-gatherer instincts and figure out which way he had went. She had to find him. Fast.

"H- Hiyoko!" A breathless, panicked voice called her name and she turned around. Ryouta was running towards her, clutching his stomach and stumbling over his skirts, "Why were... you running?! You just... took off!" He gasped his words through heaving breaths, clearly having run all this way without stopping. Hiyoko turned warily in the direction she thought Yuuya had gone into, but she couldn't just leave Ryouta clueless. She knew he'd try and follow if she did, and she didn't want him getting tied up in this.

"I admit," This time the voice was Sakuya's, and he sauntered over the hill calmly, "I am also somewhat concerned. What ails you?"

"Nothing ails me. It's Yuuya. I think something's wrong."

Sakuya humphed and about-faced with a dainty wave, "Bye."

Ryouta ran over to him and tugged on his sleeve, "S- Sakuya?! He's your brother!"

"Ha! Brother!" Sakuya scoffed bitterly, jerking his arm away, "Just when I began to recognize him as such, he left me in the dust to rot. He is no brother of mine."

Hiyoko sighed. It had been back to square one with them as soon as they'd advanced to square two, "Fine. Suit yourself. But he did apologize, you know. Maybe someday he'll tell you his reason."

"Fat chance. Ugh. This was a useless walk," He mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Stay safe, dears." And with that, he rather literally disappeared.

"Will do, Sakuya," Ryouta sighed, but looked at Hiyoko with urgency, "Let's- Let's go after Yuuya."

"Ryouta," Hiyoko started, "I love your dedication, but you're slow as all hell. Especially in those skirts. Go home and take care of Sakuya for me, okay? I think he's sad. I'll make sure Yuuya is okay."

Ryouta hesitated, but finally nodded and smiled sheepishly, "Okay, Hiyoko... I'll handle him, I promise. Be careful." Flashing her a thumbs up, he twirled around and ran after Sakuya, calling his name. Hiyoko took a deep breath. Now that her fragile partners were accounted for, she could focus.

Following her intuition, she raced into the night.

* * *

Anghel Higure was hopeless.

It's not that he doubted his ability to be saved. Sooner or later, Tohri would be deemed unfit to live here and be banished. It was his ability to be happy, to enjoy himself ever again, that he doubted. Those thinly scarred wounds that Yuuya had so carefully helped him stitch shut over the years had been torn open in an instant, and left him bleeding again.

He pitied himself, felt alone and helpless. Helpless and alone.

He worried for Yuuya, felt afraid and useless. Useless and afraid.

Sometimes, Tohri had shown him the pictures he took. It served to 'share his beauty, and perhaps enhance it', he had said. After all, what better way to induce despair than show the victim just how pathetic they look? For Anghel, it was those images that stuck with him the most. The visualization of everything that had happened to him, burned into his mind. Burned into his soul.

He let out a muffled sob and tugged against his restraints. Perhaps, if he had really tried, he could free himself, but he was far too distressed to care. Instead, he stood hunched against the wall, wrists bound to the pipe in the corner and eyes squeezed shut. This didn't prevent the flow of tears.

Anghel was truly a fallen angel. He had fallen far, far from grace, and now, it seemed, the floor was crumbling beneath him.

The photos. It wasn't even the portrayal of his own weakness that had hit him the hardest. It was the fact that in every single picture, without fail, Anghel looked like a girl. With Yuuya, Anghel didn't mind his body. As long as he was loved the way he was at home and could bind when he went out, it was fine to him. He just didn't want to _look_ like a girl.

Tohri immortalized him as one.

He had died. He had shuffled off his mortal coil. Why was that not enough to end his suffering?

And why did Yuuya have to join in?

They were dead, but Anghel feared that his beloved may experience a fate worse than such.

And again, he cried.

* * *

Yuuya had never run faster. Maybe this was his ability, here on Holiday Star. People had those, didn't they? He had never paid much attention, and honestly, he sure wasn't going to start now. All that mattered is that he was running, and he was running faster than he thought he was capable of.

He was not expecting to find him so quickly. He was expecting even less to bodily collide with him at top speed. With a grunt, Yuuya smacked into someone, who had been standing in the middle of the deserted road. Apparently, he'd been too panicked to notice. He collapsed in a heap, head spinning from both the impact and his overwhelming emotions. The man, whom our tragic hero had yet to identify, stumbled but recovered quickly. Although dizzy, Yuuya heard a click. The first sign of his identity was a familiar, arrogant laugh, this time laced with bitterness.

"Hmph! How very crass of you. The first time we have met since you so _kindly_ murdered me, and you crash into me without a care in the world. Well, I cannot say I'm surprised. You haven't even a shred of creativity in your being."

Yuuya clutched his throbbing head and pangs of anger stabbed at his heart. Looking up, it appeared that his assailant had backed up to be at a distance and a gun was being pointed at his head. Interesting. Instinctually, he was nervous by this threat, but logically, he knew it couldn't kill him twice. "Tohri Nishikikouji," he growled, and he opened his mouth to continue, but realized that 'I'm going to kill you' was no longer a valid or original threat.

Tohri puffed out his chest and smirked, "An impressive name, I know. We have some chatting to do."

"Where's Anghel?" Yuuya demanded, reaching into his pocket for a gun of his own. Tohri watched his hand, but didn't make any motion to shoot him. His fingers closed only around air and a surge of panic rushed to his gut. Had he even had a gun with him since he came here?

Ignoring his question completely, Tohri burst into laughter, "You're probably wondering how I got this when you don't have your own. Funny story. Quite beautiful, actually. This is your gun."

Yuuya's mouth opened slightly, but he somehow maintained his calm demeanor. What? His gun?

"You see, apparently, instead of a planisphere, which I was so rudely denied, the weapon that was used to kill me was given to me as fare. It's interesting, actua-"

"I don't care!" Yuuya snapped, clenching his hands into fists, "Where. Is. Anghel?"

"Who? Oh, _Yoshiko_?" Tohri sneered, emphasizing the name, "She's just _fine_. But she shouldn't be any of your concern. You're my target tonight."

Yuuya chuckled and flashed a terrifying, crooked smile, "I don't make good target practice."

Any fear he had disappeared from him and he essentially teleported forward. He hadn't, of course, as that was Sakuya's gimmick. In truth, he had only taken a few steps at his strange accelerated rate. All within a split second, Yuuya began his last step before he could grab his gun out of Tohri's hands- only to be met with a bullet to the skull.

Perhaps he was an easier target than he'd thought. He just wasn't fast _enough_.

There was a cracking noise and everything turned red.

When he had died, the pain had been instantaneous, and before he even knew it, he was riding a train. This would not kill him. That much was clear as day. Instead, it had blinded him, left a ringing in his ears, and the only thing he knew in that moment was pain. Pure, unadulterated pain. He wasn't even sure where exactly he'd been shot, but apparently, he'd fallen to the ground in a puddle of his own blood.

" _Haha. Disgusting. Even your screams are ugly._ "

The voice seemed distant, warped and echoed. Screaming? He hadn't noticed he'd been screaming. Despite the pain and pressure blossoming in his skull, he still couldn't pinpoint the shot's exact location. The ringing in his ears (perhaps that was the screaming) slowly faded to nothingness, but the pain and blindness did no such thing. He could barely think. He couldn't move a muscle.

"I tested this out on some unlucky soul on the train, a few decades back. I wanted to see how it would render him," Tohri's despicable voice was beginning to sound clearer, "As you are currently experiencing, he went into a strange, nearly vegetative state for about an hour. It's fascinating! His body reacted as though he was awake, but it seemed he had absolutely no control." Yuuya didn't hear Tohri move, but he certainly felt it when he was gripped by the hair and yanked to a half-kneeling position. He heard himself groan, but didn't even notice that he'd done so. All he could notice about himself was a throbbing, aching, pounding agony and a faded vision stained with red.

"Typically, I'd handle this in a more sophisticated way, but your artistic potential is so sickeningly low that it may as well be nonexistent. I'd much rather tear you apart in pure malice. Not everything is good enough to be art."

Yuuya's thoughts finally began to surface above the pain.

Tear him apart? What did he even mean by that? He was dead. How much deader could he get? Well, he guessed his current state was deader than he was moments ago. Maybe there was worse in store.

_Anghel. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry._

"You're a lucky boy," Tohri taunted, gripping him now by the arm and letting his head flop to the ground. There was another crack, but it barely made a difference in the constant stream of pain Yuuya felt. "There's no one around, but I think I'll take you somewhere before I pick you to pieces. Somewhere special."

Somewhere... special? Yuuya didn't understand.

With nothing but a triumphant sounding snicker, Tohri dragged Yuuya's pathetic, breathing corpse away down the street.


	5. Chapter 5

Nageki found Hiyoko near the station before either of them found Yuuya or Anghel.

"Hiyoko- I- I-" Nageki started stuttering, skidding to a stop in front of her. Like Yuuya, he seemed to be highly panicked, and like Ryouta, he seemed to be immensely out of breath. His eyes were wide and panicked, unlike their usual dull melancholy, "Have you seen Anghel?"

"Anghel?" Hiyoko asked, "No, why? I saw Yuuya running away in a panic, but he was going like, _insanely_ fast! I couldn't catch up! I'm really confused Nageki, please tell me what's going on."

"It's bad," Nageki breathed, "Really bad, but I don't know the details. Some dead dude got off the train and Anghel freaked out and ran away. I called Yuuya about it, but then he freaked out too. Anghel's never let me read his memories, but I think this guy did something awful to him."

"Oh my god!" Hiyoko cried, shaking Nageki by the shoulders, "What are we waiting for, then?! We have to go find them!"

"That's the issue!" Nageki said, "By the time I realized how dangerous the guy was, he was gone. I searched the vicinity, but he and Anghel were both just, gone."

"So you're saying you have no idea where they are?"

"I- I don't have a clue."

"G- God damn it, Nageki!" Hiyoko clenched her hands into fists and paced in circles. Nageki's frown deepened, but he didn't take offense to her statement. She was confused. Scared. He would be angry too.

"Hey, 'scuze me? I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

Nageki and Hiyoko turned in the direction the somewhat muffled voice was coming from. Hiyoko's jaw dropped when she and a middle-aged woman wearing a mask made eye contact. In a split second, it seemed the immature demeanor Hiyoko always held dear had fallen away.

"A- Azami.. is that you?"

Azami gave a thumbs up with one hand and put the other on her hip, "Carve it into your soul, kid. Long time no see, Hiyoko."

"Oh my god..." She seemed breathless, lost in the few memories Nageki had never heard of, "Y- You look so different. What are you doing here? How's Blaster?! H- How is my-"

"Whoa, there!" Azami cut Hiyoko off mid ramble. Nageki raised an eyebrow. How is my? How is her what? "Can't we save all the questions for later? I think you've got something more important on your hands."

Hiyoko seemed distressed, opening her mouth to protest, but she sighed and nodded, "You're right, Azami."

"Um, excuse me?" Nageki interjected, "You were on tonight's train, weren't you? You two know each other?"

"Heh, yep! We go way back, kiddo!" Azami said, "But that's a conversation we can save for later. I saw where your dudes went."

"Y- You did?" Nageki gasped, "Where?"

"Over that way," Azami said, pointing down one of the streets with a pink-gloved hand, "The scene kid, followed by the crazy lookin' blonde dude."

"Thank you so much, Azami," Hiyoko murmured, taking her hands. Judging by her tone and the distant look in her eyes, there was so much more that she was thanking her for. Nageki stared at her, wanting to rush her along, but their encounter seemed so heartfelt. There was a quality to Hiyoko's expression that Nageki had never seen before. A maturity she had hidden well. Was this something to do with when she died? He never has been able to see the memories of anyone's deaths... his brother's and Kazuaki's excluded. It was plausible.

"It's nothing, Hiyoko. Now go, you've got a friend to save!"

Hiyoko seemed like she had more to say, but she glanced at Nageki, who was very impatient and equally worried. She took a deep breath and her childish confidence seemed to mostly return, "Okay... I'm ready."

"Hiyoko, do you have weapons?" Nageki inquired, "I think this guy is dangerous, so even though I'm basically useless, I'm going to come with you."

"Of course I have weapons!" Hiyoko assured with a wink, pulling two pistols out of the pockets of her trousers, "What would the royal guard be without... guns?!"

Nageki reached for one of them but she pulled her hand away, shaking her head, "Um, Nageki, it's very sweet of you to offer to come, but you're not trained at all."

"You'll shoot your eye out, kid!" Azami warned, "How about I come along instead, if you're so worried? This is quite the dream so far. I may as well have some fun." She turns towards Nageki for his approval. He rolls his eyes.

"You should go tell the king... s. The kings!" Hiyoko suggested. Nageki sighed.

"Fine, Azami. She seems to trust you. But you owe me an explanation for this surreal meet and greet."

"Carve it into your soul, kid!" Azami told him, shaking his hand to seal the deal. Hiyoko handed her a gun and she smirked, "Ah, man... Reminds me of the glory days."

"Stop reminiscing and run."

"Right!" Hiyoko yelled, twirling her gun, "Let's go!"

* * *

" _Yoshikooo_! Darling! I brought you a present!"

Anghel's heavily beating heart seemed to skip one at the sound of Tohri's voice. Fear pulsed through his veins and he forced himself to open his eyes.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

Satan himself was dragging _something_ along behind him, trailing blood down the alley as he approached. Upon realizing what that barely-recognizable something truly was, Anghel let out a choked sob. _Yuuya..._ He shut his eyes again, only to reopen them. As horrible as it was, he couldn't seem to look away.

"Did you miss him? I'm sure you're elated to see him again!"

Unceremoniously, Tohri tossed Yuuya's limp body on the ground between him  
and Anghel and it collapsed in a heap and groaned. He groaned? Anghel's heart sank. Was he somehow still _conscious?_ That only made the situation worse.

"Now Yuuya," Tohri began, drawing his gun again out of his sash, "I'm sure whoever runs this place will be onto me soon enough, so I have to make this quick. How unfortunate."

For the first time since he had arrived, Anghel attempted to speak. Since his gag was makeshift at best, it wasn't hard to understand his words despite their muffled quality.

"What are you going to do to him?" Anghel whimpered, unable to hold back even his sobs.

Tohri laughed, kicking Yuuya in the gut. Yuuya moaned and Anghel cringed, "Do you see that, boy? The way your lover begs and cries? That's what she's made for, after all. She's a masterpiece too beautiful to spare. You, however, are an amateur's sketch. You hold no value in this world."

No sooner than the words had passed through his mouth, a bullet passed through the barrel of his gun. Yuuya yet out an anguished cry and curled into a ball, this time clutching his gut. Anghel closed his eyes and moaned in distress.

"Why are you _doing_ this?" he cried through his gag, and in the ever-bright moonlight, Tohri's eyes glimmered.

"Because he kept you from me, Yoshiko. He tore us apart all those years ago. And I know how to make him disappear."

"D- Disappear?"

"Ha, you sound so cute when you're desperate. Yes. I can make him disappear. I saw it happen on my train car, you see. There's more to do than you think on the ride of eternal purgatory. Someone came in contact with the hitman that had murdered them, and he tore him, rather literally, to pieces. I watched the whole thing. It was very skillfully done! When his body was no longer recognizable, all the pieces simply faded away."

Yuuya groaned. Anghel wondered if that was from whatever agony he was facing, or the words he'd just overheard. Could he even hear? What was _happening_ to him?

"Quite obviously, he had not been killed," Tohri said, nonchalantly shooting Yuuya again, "Instead, I believe he had been erased. Not murdered. He did not die again. He simply ceased existing. All trace of him was gone. In fact," Tohri paused briefly to laugh at Yuuya's screams, "I find myself unable to remember what he even looked like."

Tohri shrugged and twirled his gun a little, "But that won't be a problem for you and me, _mon amie_. When this useless knave is dealt with, you're coming back on that train with me. That way, we can be together forever. I think that's just wonderful..."

Anghel couldn't stop sobbing, only able to repeatedly choke out the word 'no'. Tohri only laughed, poking Yuuya's profusely bleeding form with his elegant shoe and shooting him again. His subconscious screams were like music to his ears.

"Ang... hel..."

Anghel's teary eyes opened at a weak and pathetic, but familiar voice. Yuuya?

Tohri quirked an eyebrow, "Hm. That's funny. Last guy I shot couldn't even manage a word. It seemed his body was running purely on instinct. You must be truly, truly in love with her to be crying about her even now."

With another shot to the head, Tohri scoffed, "That's truly pathetic. People like you should simply cease to be."

And without even looking down, he spat on his agonized heap of a victim.

Upon doing so, it seemed he'd already won.


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing was more alarming than seeing a trail of blood stretching down the street.

Scratch that, hearing a gunshot nearly immediately upon doing so was far more alarming.

"Oh my god..." Hiyoko choked, skidding to a stop and clutching her chest. She and Azami had been running for no longer than five minutes, but clearly they had found what they were looking for. Blood. So much blood. And real blood, at that, not the weird fake stuff Anghel always smeared on his chest. Hiyoko found her vision wavering. She hadn't seen this much blood in years. Not since she was alive, not since-

Not since she died.

Apparently she had been falling because Azami caught her, "Whoa there, kiddo! I know this is quite the shocker but we've got a sick bastard to take down." 

Hiyoko wiped off her head and Azami slowly helped her up. They looked each other in the eyes. Azami's were warm like they always had been, even if she was a bit more wrinkly than before. Hiyoko wanted to cry right then and there. To apologize, to thank her for everything. But Azami was right. There was something far more important to deal with. Their emotional moment could wait.

"Y- You're right," Hiyoko grunted, flipping her hair out of her eyes as a new determination grew in them, "Anghel is in huge trouble. Somehow. Even though we're all dead."

Azami chuckled, adjusting her bright pink mask. She'd stopped wearing it years ago, but it was endearing that she still wore it in dreams, "That really is a kicker, isn't it?"

There was another gunshot and Azami frowned. Hiyoko cocked her gun. Hang in there, Anghel. Edel Blau to the rescue!

"Let's go. Now!"

"Couldn't agree more."

So the two raced off, following the still-wet trail of blood like it was a path straight to hell.

* * *

"Wow," a sickeningly calm voice rose up from the silence after roughly six shots had been fired and their sounds faded away, "Impressive, boy. You have far more stamina than I'd expected. But you did mention something about the FBI on that happy day you murdered me, so I suppose you must have some training!"

Anghel couldn't bear to look, and yet he did. He'd thought that the worst of their suffering could only have been in life, and that by dying together, they had ended it all. Clearly, looking at the mangled form of the man he loved most, Anghel had been wrong. Oh so wrong. Yuuya's eyes–or what he could see of them–were open, but glazed over and likely blind. The brand new glasses he had gotten when he arrived were now as shattered as his old ones.

"Sadly, I don't have any explosives or acids to get this job done easily," Tohri murmured, "So shooting you repeatedly, removing you slowly, will simply have to suffice. How sad. Not imaginative at all."

Tohri raised his arm to pull the trigger again and Anghel winced. Noticing this, Tohri snickered, "Are you enjoying this, _mon amie_? The way you tremble and cry reminds me so much of our golden weeks together. How nostalgic. In fact, I think this might be even more beautiful..." He stuck the gun under his arm briefly and squared Anghel up in a frame with his hands, as though he were to take a photo, "It's a pity I don't have my camera."

This time, when he pointed his gun at Yuuya, he actually intended to shoot again.

"Holy shit. Bishikikouji?!"

A shrill sounding voice echoed from the other side of the alley and Tohri whirled around. He pointed his gun at whoever was confronting him, only to find there were two pointed at him. The man's jaw dropped slightly, but he furrowed his brow and attempted to stay reserved. The voice, of course, had been Hiyoko, and she and Azami currently both had their weapons trained on Tohri.

"Bishikikouji," Hiyoko breathed, this time more in disbelief than shock, "You're the one that hurt Anghel? Somehow I'm not surprised."

Tohri laughed, attempting to seem collected but wavering in his conviction, "Nishikikouji. It's not a good idea to mock someone's name while he's aiming his gun at you."

"Yeah, and?" Azami asked, managing to keep her cool far better than Tohri, "Hate to break it to you, kid, but we're aiming two guns at you. Shoot one of us and the other has you dead."

This had Tohri stumped, and in the brief silence, faint sobbing was audible. Hiyoko craned her neck around Tohri to look at what was past him. Upon seeing Anghel, she almost dropped her gun, but she didn't. She remained firm in her resolve, "Anghel! You're okay! W- Well sort of okay, but..." She was about to ask where all the blood had come from when her eyes fell to the ground.

"O- Oh my _god_ ," Hiyoko croaked, "Is that...?" She knew the most likely answer, but the body was so warped and bloody that she couldn't tell for sure.

"Yikes," Azami muttered, glancing at the _thing_ lying on the ground, "You really fucked up, Nishikikouji. This is what happens when you try to show off."

Hiyoko found herself trembling. What would happen if she shot him? Would he end up like whoever was curled up on the ground like that? No, she doubted that. It seemed like they had been shot far more than once. Were they conscious? She almost wondered if they were alive, but nobody was. Not here. If there's one thing she knew, it's that this corpse was not a dreamer.

"Show off?" Tohri laughed, "I am doing no such thing! This mess?" He gestured behind him at Mystery Corpse, "He is far from a masterpiece. I wouldn't display him with my name for all the money in the world. Her, however, I would certainly claim. I believe she is a work of beauty."

"Her?" Azami asked incredulously, glancing at Anghel and seeming to be genuinely confused, "We're the only girls here, bucko."

"Just ignore it," Hiyoko growled, a veil of malice shrouding her expression, "This guy doesn't have a clue what he's talking about."

"Continue living in your fantasy, I don't care," Tohri dismissed, smirking, "Just know you're wrong. No matter what façade she puts up, Yoshiko will always be a girl."

"Shut _up_!" Hiyoko yelled, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Should I shoot him, Hiyoko? I mean I don't really see where else this confrontation is gonna go. If he's really dead, I doubt it'll kill him."

"I wonder..." Tohri mused, pointing his gun now at Azami, "You're a dreamer, are you not? Well if I were to erase you here... would you die in the real world?"

Erase? What the hell was he talking about? Hiyoko clenched her left fist and her finger twitched on the trigger. When she heard Anghel's sobs grow louder, she knew it was time.

"Alright, that's it!" 

She pulled the trigger. Tohri didn't seem surprised. The bullet entered his chest, but not quite close enough to his heart to induce post-death-pseudo-death. He gripped at his shirt where the bullet had entered, falling to his knees and grimacing in pain, but he somehow then managed to smirk. With his other hand, he raised his gun and a shot flew off in Azami's direction.

No living human would have been able to shoot after just being shot himself, but he was already dead. If the shot wouldn't usually be lethal, the pain wasn't enough to truly incapacitate him. Thankfully, it did cause his aim to waver, and the bullet entered Azami's gut rather than her heart. She grunted and fell to her knees.

"No!" Hiyoko screamed, dropping her gun in a panic and running to Azami's side. Azami clutched at her bleeding belly and chuckled, wincing as soon as she did so.

"C- Calm down, kid," she said, "I'm only dreaming. I'll be fine in the morning. Just... take care of the bastard who did it, aight? For me." Hiyoko turned around to pick up her gun, but it seemed it was too late.

"Hahaha! Ahahahaha!" Tohri cackled, already having recovered mostly from his wound. He still gripped at his chest, but he'd risen to his feet and pointed his gun at Hiyoko's head, "I guess I'll just have to erase all of you, then... you, her, and your little-"

"Pardon me, mongrel. I'm afraid I will have to stop you here."

Before he knew what hit him, a blade was thrust through his heart from behind. Hiyoko stared as Tohri's expression contorted in shock and immediately froze. He who had been threatening her only moments before collapsed to the ground in a motionless heap.

Behind him, stood Sakuya Shirogane, holding a bloody sword and glowering at it in disgust.

"Hello, Hiyoko," he said, looking up, "I apologize for being late."


	7. Chapter 7

No more than half an hour earlier, Sakuya had been very, very, grumpy. Yuuya was in trouble? Tch, why should he care? That mongrel had abandoned him in his darkest hour with no more than a hasty goodbye. Sure, he had apologized, but did it really make a difference? He still wouldn't tell him why he left in the first place. Without a good reason, why would Sakuya assume he had left for any purpose but malice? It made him bitter. Right when he had started to care for that man, for the first time in his life, he disappeared as though the brother he claimed to love didn't matter at all.

Perhaps that had been his intent all along. Perhaps all Yuuya had wanted was to break down Sakuya's walls, only to leave him shivering in the cold. To break a nobleman's dignity, but when he had been disowned, he was no longer a nobleman worth humiliating. Maybe that's why he had left... there was no reason for him to stay.

Sakuya sighed. It just didn't seem like him. He had other theories, all equally as implausible, but he couldn't for the life of him think of why else he would have abandoned him. Shrugging, Sakuya continued his leisurely walk back down the hill towards their home before he was interrupted by the calling voice of his dear boyfriend.

"Sakuya!" Ryouta cried, stumbling down the hill in his stunning court dress. Sakuya couldn't help but blush when he saw him, as he truly did look beautiful in it, but his mood and expression remained somber. Catching up to him and taking his hand, Ryouta looked at his boyfriend with wide, concerned eyes, "I- I know things with Yuuya aren't going well, and I understand that you're sad. But I don't want you to be sad alone... I'm here for you, if you want to talk."

A sigh escaped Sakuya and he gazed into the night sky. The stars were so beautiful–they always were–but not as beautiful as the two people he had devoted his life to. They always had his back, even when his troubles seemed so petty and theirs so large. Before he met them, Sakuya's sky had always felt like a void, with himself being the only star. Now, every person he met felt like that... a person. Not just a commoner. Now his sky was bright with stars.

"I'm fine, Ryouta," Sakuya said, offering him a faint smile and pulling him close. He was a little warm from just having been running, but it was a chilly night. Besides, Sakuya appreciated the feeling of another human in his arms, "I just... I find myself perplexed by that mongrel's nature. For him to... Ah, never mind..." He sighed and buried his head into the crook of Ryouta's neck.

Ryouta frowned and pushed him slightly away, looking him in the eyes, "Sakuya. It's been literally decades. You can't hide how you feel from me anymore."

Sighing slightly, Sakuya laughed, "Ha. You're not wrong, darling. You rarely are. I love that about you."

"Well, I love everything about you," Ryouta countered, face reddening as he smirked, "Beat that."

"Tch!" Sakuya couldn't help but smile a bit too, "You play a dirty game! You know that I adore you equally as much!"

"I know, I know," Ryouta laughed, squeezing Sakuya's hand. Returning to solemnity, he began quietly, "So finish what you were telling me. It seemed like it's been bothering you for a while."

It took Sakuya a few moments to gather both the courage and the words to start. He nervously adjusted his jabot, straightening his posture in order to compose himself before he spoke. Ryouta squeezed his hand again.

"It puzzles me to no end, how Yuuya acts," he admitted, staring vacantly into the sky of stars, "The way he dotes on me for years, even when I shun him and call him a worthless knave, only to..." He would not use the word abandon. Not out loud. "... forsake me at my first sign of reciprocation. It follows no logical train."

"Not everything is logical," Ryouta whispered, tracing the lines in Sakuya's palm. His hands were so soft, so delicate. His fingers long and elegant, truly tailored to a magnificent pianist such as him, "Some people run off their emotions. I know that's hard for you to understand, Sakuya, even now. You've been better since we've been together, but you spent sixteen of the most developmental years of your life repressing it. That's enough to stick with you for a long, long time."

Sakuya exhaled, staring at Ryouta's face while the other focused intently on his. It was round, soft, and free of any signs of wear. He had died young, and he was even younger here, yet somehow, it seemed Ryouta possessed a wisdom far greater than he, or even Hiyoko, ever would.

"Just listen," Ryouta murmured, looking up and meeting Sakuya's cold blue eyes, "I'm not telling you to go forgive him. I mean, I would want to know what his reasons were too. Just... I don't think he did it with bad intentions. I think he's just too scared to explain."

Taking a moment to ponder this all, Sakuya stared at the ground. The cobblestone was dark, yet it still seemed to glimmer. Everything here seemed to sparkle like the whole world was a star. Was Ryouta right? He couldn't be sure. Holding grudges was deeply rooted into his bloodline, and there was no way he would be able to simply overlook his suspicions. However... Ryouta's words had given him a slight peace of mind, and he looked back down at him. So bright. So innocent, even after all these years. He too, seemed to glow in the starlight. Leaning down, Sakuya pressed a gentle kiss to Ryouta's lips.

"I thank you, Ryouta," he whispered upon pulling away, still a mere foot from the other's face, "You did help. You always do." Though he knew it wouldn't cause any bounds or leaps in the progress of their reconciliation, Ryouta still smiled at the knowledge that he had done something right.

"Good, Sakuya. That's all I needed to hear," he nuzzled Sakuya's shoulder before pulling him ahead down the moonlit path, "Now let's get home. I'll make some tea."

"That sounds-"

A loud noise burst in the distance and they both jumped, Ryouta clutching his heart and Sakuya clutching Ryouta.

"W- What was that?" Ryouta gasped, "It sounded... It sounded like..."

"A gunshot," Sakuya growled, narrowing his eyes and looking into the distance in the direction it had come from, "Do you think it's Yuuya?"

"Maybe," Ryouta mumbled, nervously playing with the ruffles of his skirt, "And wherever he is, Hiyoko is bound to be there too..."

Another gunshot rang out, this time only shocking Ryouta. Sakuya pressed his lips together and clenched his fists. Was he overreacting to be worrying right now? She had handled much before in the past... Besides, it could always have been an accident.

"Sakuya," Ryouta started, an eerily nervous tone to his voice, "I have a bad feeling about this."

Sakuya nodded, "As do I... Come home with me." When a third gunshot blared, the two exchanged a nervous glance. This was no accident, someone was getting hurt, and Hiyoko was certainly in danger. Sakuya grabbed Ryouta's arm and was immediately dragging him down the street towards their house.

"W- Wait, don't you think we should do someth-"

"I am doing something," Sakuya muttered, focused now on running, but still attempting to keep a dignified air, "I would ask you to help, however I do not think you could get there in time."

"B- But I thought you could only teleport once a night, and-" Ryouta continued rambling and Sakuya chose to ignore him for the remainder of their journey. Luckily, their house wasn't far down the road, and Sakuya entered it quickly, efficiently tracking down what he sought. It was an old saber, a memory from someone he could not recall. Hiyoko liked it very much, but had very little use for it when she preferred guns.

Ryouta's eyes widened at the sight of it, "S- Sakuya! Do you have _any_ clue what you're doing?"

Sakuya smiled and kissed Ryouta's head before backing away, "I will return unscathed, I assure you. Simply remain calm. All will be well."

And in a flash he was gone, leaving Ryouta Kawara confused, worried, and alone.


	8. Chapter 8

For the last hour and a half, Yuuya had only known pain and anger. Pain due to what was being done to him. Anger due to the sickening words that continually dripped from Tohri's mouth. He wanted to scream. He wanted to stand up and strangle him for hours. To stare into his twisted eyes and watch him suffer. Was that wrong of him? Perhaps a few hours prior it would have been, but now, it was justified. Yuuya Sakazaki's rage was completely justified.

He wanted to watch him die all over again.

Alas, Yuuya could not act upon this rage. He could not act upon anything. All he was capable of doing was lying as a drooling lump of flesh on the ground, shot into near shreds like swiss cheese. Every sound felt distant. Every shot so sharp. His thoughts were clear as day, yet when he tried to move, he simply couldn't. At a certain point, he tried to pass out, to see if perhaps he would simply never wake up again, rather than suffer like this until he was torn brutally from existence. It never worked. The most he could do was tune out the sickening words and moan, still unable to brace himself for bullet after excruciating bullet.

Until they stopped.

" _Hello, Hiyoko. I apologize for being late._ "

Unsure of what had just happened, but absolutely sure of who the voice belonged to, Yuuya felt a wave of relief wash over his crippled form. Sakuya! _Sakuya!_ He'd come to save him! Well… that was pushing it. But a man could dream, couldn’t he?

"S- Sakuya?" If Yuuya hadn't already figured it out, Hiyoko's confused gasp would have confirmed it, "What are you- How did you- Are you-"

"Please calm down, darling," Sakuya laughed, managing to crack the slightest hint of a smile, "I shall explain everything in due time... First, please cover that explaining which you owe me. What in heaven's name is going on?" He seemed to have more to say, but his eyes fell on Azami.

"Oh my god..." he breathed, lowering his sword, "Is that..."

Hiyoko nodded frantically, "Sh- She's dreaming, she'll be okay... But Yuuya..."

Sakuya finally noticed him and stumbled backwards and dropped his saber, holding a hand to his chest and the other to his forehead as though he were to faint. What used to be his brother was now barely more than a heap of flesh and blood, unmoving and barely breathing. Even despite his bitterness, seeing how pathetic he looked made his heart sink a little. It truly wasn't a good look for him.

Then, he spotted Anghel, who had gone completely quiet. Briefly, he was simply in shock. Seeing his… well… his _friend_ tied up like that, shivering and helpless, was not only disgusting but unnerving. He did not like it one bit, and would like to pretend he had never seen it.

"H- Hiyoko," he started, attempting still to sound important despite his disgust, "Please untie him."

Hiyoko looked at Azami, but she winced and flashed her the 'okay' symbol. Reluctantly, Hiyoko stood up, approached Anghel and untied his hands and removed his gag. Immediately, he backed away from her, rubbing his mouth and whining plaintively.

"Anghel..." Hiyoko murmured, "A- Are you okay?"

He shook his head and glanced at Yuuya, "I’m not important. Check on him, please, Hiyo- I mean, A- Apostle..." Well, at least he was trying. He couldn't be _that_ scarred.

Hearing his voice again, however nervous, made Yuuya feel alive. He was okay. The love of his life, death, and near-erasure was okay.

Hiyoko sighed and nodded, walking slowly over to Yuuya. Seeing him up close made her stomach turn. His clothes were torn and bloody, his glasses shattered, and his hair stained red and plastered to his skull. She did notice that the wounds seemed to be healing at a very fast rate. The original shot to his eye was already nearly healed. His glasses, however, had no such regenerative power.

"Anghel..." She addressed he who was biting the ends of his hair, still in the corner, "What happened? Why did he… do this?"

He stared at her for a moment, unable to find the words he needed, but took a deep breath and began, "The Golden-winged Messenger of Suffering sought revenge for a misdeed my beloved Apostle had once committed against him. My distress only served to further that of Midnight Rose's, and was not personal. I... I shall be fine."

Had Yuuya been able to say anything, he would have absolutely called bullshit. Why was he lying? Now was as good a time as any to finally let this all come to light. But maybe the pain was just getting to his head. Maybe Anghel was right to be fabricating a story that was more pleasing to the ear.

"Dare I ask what he was trying to _do_?" Sakuya mused, having averted his eyes completely from his brother, "I certainly would not taken such a brutal approach."

"He did mention somethin' about 'erasing' him," Azami chimed in, seeming as cheerful as ever despite the wound in her gut and the grim situation, "You know anything about that, kid?"

Anghel chewed on his hair a little more, "I... I believe the Bringer of Despair mentioned t- t-" His words faded out and his face grew pale. Hiyoko sighed. Maybe it was a good idea to save this for later.

"Yuuya," she addressed him, "Are you conscious?"

_Yes, dreadfully so_ , he would have said, if he could. But he couldn't.

"A- Aye, Apostle..." Anghel whispered, "Mere moments ago, he uttered my name."

“It shouldn’t be a big deal because he seems to be healing, but,” Hiyoko inhaled and sighed, tentatively reaching for Yuuya, "I- I don't think there's anything we can do for him. The only person who knew first aid at all here was... him."

Anghel leaned against the brick wall and slid down it until he was sitting with his knees bent in front of him. He didn't seem to have anything more to say. All he did was stare at Yuuya. He did not say another word.

"I- I still wanna know exactly what went down," Azami said, grimacing as Sakuya attempted to move her to a more comfortable position, "But I guess I never will, will I? I'm definitely losing a lot of blood." Despite her words, she seemed calm.

"Azami, quick," Sakuya murmured, his expression taking on a strange worried warmth it almost never had. Hiyoko joined him at her side with similarly frayed nerves, "What can you... what can you tell us about... him?"

Azami winced again at the pain but managed to smile, "Don't worry at all, friends. He's- He's doing fine."

A weight that seemed to be crushing them both was immediately lifted. He was okay. They needed to tell Ryouta. Sakuya glanced at Anghel, worried that he may have overheard their cryptic conversation and gotten curious, but he seemed lost in his thoughts. In fact, he was muttering what seemed like some strange incantation. As for Yuuya... Sakuya had no idea if he had heard. Well, he would find out in due time... if Yuuya ever wakes up. Had he heard, he would come bumbling up to him and ask, as if he _wasn't_ the biggest nuisance on the star. It would not be hard to get rid of him, though. He always did, after all.

Whatever the answer was, it didn't matter. Azami was simply... fading away. So that's what happens if you die here while you dream...

"A- Azami!" Hiyoko cried, clutching her hand, "Don't go!"

Azami laughed and squeezed Hiyoko's, "I think I need to, kid. Can't tell you bleeding out is my favorite kind of dream to have... It was amazing seeing you all though. Thanks for that..."

"We do have one more request," Sakuya started in an attempt at a commanding tone, but he wavered slightly, "When you die... ask for Holiday Star."

Smiling and closing her eyes, the faded form of Azami took his hand as well, "Carve it into your soul, kids. I'll see you there."

And with that, the hands they were holding vanished into nothing and no trace of her remained. With her gone, they took a few moments to reevaluate the situation. Yuuya was slowly but surely recovering from being nearly eviscerated. Anghel was traumatized. Azami was gone. Tohri was unconscious… but they doubted it would be for long. Sakuya… Sakuya could use a sword?

Hiyoko’s head was spinning. It’s been a long, long night.

"Lets..." She started, "Let's get them home... we can deal with everything else later..."

Sakuya nodded, “Nageki should be alerting the kings. We’ll discuss everything with them while we monitor this disgusting mongrel’s progress… I believe there is a lot more to this than meets the eye.”


	9. Chapter 9

Within ten minutes, the members of both kings’ court (plus Kazuaki) were gathered around the Higures' concrete apartment. It was a tight fit, so only a few people actually stayed inside the apartment at a time, with the rest waiting in the hallway. Anghel was always one of those who stayed. Although Yuuya had not yet woken up, he had healed rather tremendously. All of his wounds had healed into scars, some somewhat darker than others. Anghel wondered if they would ever fade. Somehow, he doubted it. Throughout it all, Anghel did not let go of Yuuya's hand.

At this moment, nearly half an hour after getting there, Hiyoko was in the apartment with Anghel and Yuuya, while everyone else was outside.

The one present king was not being very helpful. Hitori had not woken up even when Nageki slapped him in the face, and Kazuaki had not stopped crying since he got the news—not even once. Ryouta had been doting on him with tissues for over half an hour so he wouldn't get any more snot on his cloak, murmuring reassurances into his ear.

It had been somewhat of a fiasco getting Yuuya home. Considering he had been completely unresponsive aside from groaning and writhing, they had no real measure as to what would or would not hurt him excruciatingly until the damage was already done. It was painful not only for him, but for the consciouses of those who transported him. At least now, lying in his bed with his injuries mostly healed, he didn’t seem to be in agony anymore. As for their unconscious prisoner, he had been whining as well, but his cries were beginning to fade. They were keeping him a little bit down the hall. Within sight… but out of mind.

Getting more information out of Anghel had been hard, but with a calming team effort from Nageki and Hiyoko, they managed to learn a bit more about the situation. Apparently, Tohri's goal had been to tear Yuuya apart, veritably erasing him from existence. Why he wanted to do this was beyond either of them. The thought made even Nageki shudder, and Anghel was silent after that. They did manage to get one other piece of information out of him prior to that; Yuuya would awaken roughly an hour after the last 'fatal' shot had been fired. Unfortunately, not long after, so would Tohri.

"Nageki, can you handle him at the station?" Sakuya asked, seemingly the only person who wasn't occupied with something else, "We know very well that he is violent. He will certainly try to attack you, even with the barrier up."

Nageki, who was sitting against the hall wall, shrugged, sighing and touching his hair, "I guess. I'm sure it wouldn't be too big of a deal. He'd just be clawing at thin air."

"I won't allow it," Hitori grumbled. Wait a moment… Hitori? Sakuya hadn't even noticed him. When did he get here? It seemed he’d been there for a while, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It gave an immeasurably unapproachable aura, "I'm not letting Nageki get anywhere near that guy if he's awake."

Usually, Nageki would have some snarky remark to counter Hitori's overprotective nature, but instead, he remained silent. Maybe he was finally simply fed up with everything. He had never once taken a break... Perhaps it was about time for him to do so.

"If you want my opinion," Sakuya interjected, and usually no one would, but this was a special occasion, "I wouldn't let him wake up. He's worse than any other disruptive cur we've put up with. If we simply... Well, if we simply 'killed' him again every time he would wake up, we wouldn't have to deal with him, and then we'd put him back on the train."

"That's morbid," Ryouta whispered, "But it may be our best option."

"Our _best_ option..." Hitori muttered, fiddling with the feathers on his cloak, "...would be to 'erase' him."

Sakuya laughed sarcastically and shot Hitori a dark glare, "You're barely trusted in the eyes of the citizens, and you have the gall to be the only one to suggest that? Suspicious. Not that I'm truly surprised."

"Sakuya, please let it go," Ryouta sighed, "His Highness is right. It is our best option. It's just not the one we're going to use. We... we can't stoop to his level. I don't think His Other Highness would want that."

And indeed, Kazuaki seemed even more distressed at the notion of brutally deleting Tohri from existence. It would be better... Yuuya would forget his trauma, Anghel would forget whatever part of it involved him. They all would forget this entire incident. But Kazuaki didn't want that. He didn't want them to forget. Kazuaki was sick of forgetting.

"It's true," Kazuaki whimpered, face buried in his cloak, "I don't want us to forget this. I want us to remember, and make sure it never happens again..."

"Amen," Sakuya agreed, and Ryouta nodded, "So it's decided? Nageki will babysit the eccentric cad and shoot him again every time he's about to wake up?"

Hitori was about to protest when Nageki did so louder. He groaned and threw his head back against the wall, dragging his hands down his face, "No! _Nope!_ I can't do this, I fucking. I can't."

Everyone stared at him with wide eyes and gaping jaws. Did he just... did he just curse at them? Hitori felt a lecture coming on, but Nageki didn’t seem anywhere near done.

"Waiting for people to leave? Watching them? Sure! I can do that," Nageki whined, probably speaking louder than he ever had, "But this? This is fucking _nuts_! I am _not_ going to just sit there and _shoot_ a guy over and over for a goddamn _day_ , just watching him suffer over and over!" He closed his eyes and groaned again, "Aagh! I need a vacation."

A silence overcame them all and none of them knew what to say. After a few awkward glances around, Hitori finally broke it.

“I’ll do it, then,” he sighed, picking at his nails absently as though he was simply agreeing to a chore, “Nageki deserves a break. Besides… it’s the least I can do for… letting this happen.”

“H- Hitori…” Kazuaki sniffled, looking up and locking eyes with him. Hitori felt his heart sink like a brick. Those eyes… they were so beautiful. He couldn’t believe the things he’d done while looking into those eyes, “It’s not your fault.”

Hitori laughed bitterly, immediately averting his gaze, “That’s not true. If I hadn’t been sleeping, I could have done something. I would have noticed something was wrong…”

“I was sleeping too,” Kazuaki reminded him softly, trying to get him to look at him again, but he wouldn’t. Hitori’s expression remained vacant and fixated on the bland, concrete wall. It made Kazuaki sad… He loved Hitori’s eyes. He loved everything about Hitori, “I- It’s equally my fault as it is yours.”

“That’s just _not true_!” Hitori abruptly yelled, his words echoing slightly in the compact hall, “I sleep all the time, and it was _my_ court that fell apart. Besides… I didn’t even wake up when Nageki tried to alert me… I woke up ten minutes later to my court in shambles and had to find my way here on my own. You all were already handling it. I did nothing.”

Kazuaki didn’t know what to say. His bottom lip wavered and he started crying harder. Hitori’s already heavy heart seemed to crash through the ground. Kazuaki deserved better than him. He deserved so much better.

“U- Uuuum, is everything alright out here?” a voice sounded and the door to the apartment creaked open. Hiyoko popped her head out with a concerned expression, “Your Highness, you’re practically screaming... are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hitori growled, “But I… I wanna see Yuuya when he wakes up. Anghel too. Alone. I… I need to apologize.”

Hiyoko began nodding, but a cry from within of “Apostle!” distracted her briefly and she popped back into the room. When she returned, a soft but melancholy smile was on her face, “Well, good timing… it seems he’s just woken up.”

“Make it quick, _Your Majesty_ ,” Sakuya growled as Hiyoko and Hitori switched places, “You have a mongrel to shoot.”


	10. Chapter 10

Anghel felt the tears coming as soon as he saw his love stir.

“Apostle!” he cried, but it was somewhat hard to discern whether he was addressing Yuuya or Hiyoko. Either way, when Hiyoko popped her head back in the door, Yuuya was stretching out his arms and yawning, as though all he’d been experiencing was a deep, deep, sleep.

“ _Bonjour_ , Anghel,” he mumbled, stumbling over his words in his daze, “It’s been a rather long night.”

“Yuu- I mean, Midnight Rose…” Anghel whispered, trembling but drawing Yuuya’s hand to his chest and holding it there, “I… I feared you would never awaken.” Upon finishing his words, he spontaneously burst into tears, frantically wiping them away as fast as he could.

“Well, here I am,” Yuuya laughed weakly, smiling and wiping some of Anghel’s tears away. It seemed that his usual playful attitude was still there, but muted, “I… I feel awful, to be frank.”

Although he was awake and moving, Yuuya both felt and looked terrible. His entire body seemed to be experiencing a dull, throbbing ache, particularly the left side of his head. Not unlike those Anghel had formerly worn to bind, Yuuya’s chest was wrapped in bandages. He briefly wondered who had done that. His shattered glasses had been removed, but he was covered in dried blood and bullet-shaped scars. A particularly noticeable one was not only strange, but rather eerie. His left eyeball seemed to bear a small, black, and circular mark nearly overlapping his pupil. It almost seemed as though he had two of them, however this new second one did not stay within the confines of his iris. Anghel had noticed it, but the information was too much for him to process.

“You look awful too.”

Yuuya dazedly looked up, squinting at whoever it was that had just spoken. Although with his glassesless blurry vision he could not make out his face, the voice was clear as day.

Anghel didn’t even nod in Hitori’s direction. Instead, he simply leaned closer to Yuuya and wrapped his arms around his bandaged chest, softly crying onto him. Yuuya winced, but allowed him to stay there, putting his arm around him and burying his face into his hair. He was damaged, but he was alright. They were both alright.

“ _Salut_ , Hitori,” Yuuya began, offering a broken smile, “It’s rude of you to interrupt my reunion with _mon amour_ , but since you’re royalty, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Tch, you seem to already be full of energy,” Hitori mumbled, taking a seat on a chair next to the bed, “Where do I…” He paused and exhaled, rubbing his temples, “Where do I even begin?”

“I believe, Your Highness, that I’m the one who should be beginning,” Yuuya chuckled, “After all. I can only assume you just woke up.”

Hitori sighed and leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together between his legs, “Yeah. You got me. But I sort of got filled in.”

“I see. Well, then what is it you came in here for?” Yuuya asked calmly, “As you can see, I am making a full recovery.”

Raising his eyebrows, Hitori stared at him, “I would hardly call this a full recovery. Do you know what you look like? I’d show you, but… can you even see?”

“Ha, no less than usual-” Yuuya started, but stopped, furrowing his brow, “Well, now that you mention it, I actually don’t think I can see anything out of my left eye.” He laughed, as though it was nothing serious at all, “Can’t say I’m too shocked! That… that bastard shot me there, didn’t he?” Although his words were carefree, his eyes, even with their new mark, seemed bright with rage.

“So you remember,” Hitori said in a low, grumbling tone, “Were you conscious that whole time?”

“Yes, dreadfully so!” Yuuya said with a smile, “Ahaha… You see, I wanted to use that line earlier, but I was unable to speak.”

Hitori sighed. Yuuya was… way too happy. Was he in some sort of shock? He wanted to talk to him seriously, but it seemed the last thing he wanted to do was discuss this. Somehow, he would have to 

“Kid…” he started solemnly, “You know you don’t need to wear that façade around me. I know what you did, so I can safely assume his motives. I know everything.”

Yuuya’s smile immediately faded into a frown and he closed his eyes, pausing. After a moment of thought, he sighed, “You… You’re half right… Aha… I don’t need to act around you, but... you don’t know everything.”

“So tell me, Sakazaki- or is it Higure?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well tell me, Yuuya,” Hitori decided, “Tell me everything. I think… I think I deserve to know.”

Yuuya looked down at Anghel warily and sighed, “It’s not really my story to tell, and I know he’s not up for it… But… maybe someday, Hitori…” He looked back up to his king, despite being virtually unable to see how he was reacting, and laughed softly, “This is going to sound insane, but… I trust you.”

Hitori scoffed, “Yep. That’s absolutely insane. I can’t even trust myself.” But although he said those words, he found himself wondering if they _could_ trust him. Could Kazuaki? No. The golden trio? No. Even his beloved Nageki couldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. But Yuuya and Anghel… they weren’t pure. They were corrupted, like him, and in that way he felt kinship. He had done them a solid—no, two solids—and never backed out on his word to keep them under wraps. 

They were his royal court after all. A tainted court for a tainted king.

“Well, no matter the story, this was a weird case,” Yuuya sighed, “I’ve been targeted to die before, but I must admit, being targeted to die _again_ was a surprise. Was… was it Sakuya who saved me? I couldn’t see anything. I could only hear.”

Hitori shrugged, “I dunno, I wasn’t there. I think so? Don’t get too happy, though… I doubt he had your safety in mind.”

Yuuya laughed bitterly, “I’m not surprised. I’ll never mean anything to him. Not now, not in a billion years. The one chance I had, decades ago… I let it slip out of my reach.”

The room became silent and even Anghel’s heavy breathing seemed to slow. Yuuya sighed and tried to ignore the thoughts of his brother. To distract himself, he looked down at Anghel, stroking his back softly and kissing his head. He never wanted to let him go again. He had said that before, but now he meant it. Anghel clung to him as well, his tears having finally subsided, and he looked up at Yuuya, who smiled down at him. It seemed he may finally have something else to say.

“Uh,” Hitori muttered, averting his eyes and standing up from his chair. He dusted off his cloak and smirked, “I think I’ll leave you two to your little moment. Wouldn’t wanna intrude. I’ll tell them to check on you la-”

A gunshot sounded from the corridor. Hitori groaned loudly and clutched at his hair.

“Oh son of a _fucking_ -”

“I- It’s okay!” Ryouta swung open the door of the apartment and yelled inside, “Uh, Sakuya took care of it! It’s all okay! Just, hurry up Hitori! Please!”

Hitori sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since waking up, “Jesus. You scared me half to erasure. I’m on my way out.” Ryouta shut the door and Hitori glanced one last time at his wounded and distressed court.

“Before I go,” He told them, “Just know I couldn’t have asked for a better couple of followers.”

Yuuya laughed and offered him a wink, “Flattery will get you everywhere, your highness.”

“Right,” Hitori muttered, turning out of the room and gripping the doorknob, “Anyway... bye.” And as he exited the room, he heard Yuuya’s parting words.

“ _Adieu... mon roi._ ”


	11. Chapter 11

When Hitori got back into the hallway, Kazuaki was crying, Tohri was bleeding, Nageki was vegetating, and Hiyoko was holding a gun. Wonderful.

"So..." Hitori muttered, scratching his neck and letting out a sigh, "What did I miss?"

"He woke up. So she shot him," Nageki muttered. He was still leaning against the wall, eyes closed and hair hanging in his face. Hitori's heart sank just looking at him. For the first time, he seemed to be genuinely distressed by the situation. The calm façade he usually put on had melted away to reveal a tired, worn-out ghost of a man.

"Nageki..." Hitori murmured, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Y- You're not fine. Stop lying to me."

Nageki laughed bitterly and knocked his head back against the wall, "Only if you start telling the truth."

Hitori went silent. He didn't lie! He _never_ lied! Not anymore at least... but it seemed that that's not what Nageki meant. He didn't tell him not to lie. He told him to tell the truth. That, he struggled with.

"I'm sorry..." Hitori mumbled, crouching down and reaching towards Nageki. Nageki shied away from his touch and stood up, sighing and wiping the dirt off his clothes.

"Yeah. Well... I... I'm overwhelmed," Nageki said, addressing everyone now, "I'm taking the day off and going home to rest... Bye."

Without another word, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked off down the hall. All was silent aside from Tohri's occasional groans. Nobody else said goodbye. No one was up for it. Kazuaki sniffled from his corner.

"This all... this shouldn't have happened!" He cried, wailing into his cloak, "I- I should have stopped it, I-"

"Kazuaki, darling," Hitori started quietly, leaning against the wall and attempting to ignore Nageki's bitterness, "Like you said to me... it's not your fault."

"I don't think it was anyone's fault," Ryouta spoke up, twisting his skirt nervously, "I mean... what could we have done?"

"I think," Hiyoko started, "I think we should just... focus on the present. I want to talk to Yuuya and Anghel... Make sure they're okay."

"And I..." Sakuya added, "...wish to receive the gratitude I deserve. I'm not going in there, though. I have nothing to say. Hiyoko, Ryouta... Ensure they thank me properly for saving them."

"Okay, sure," Hiyoko laughed softly and moved on. She nudged Hitori, "Your Majesty?"

Silence. He seemed to have fallen asleep against the wall.

"Your Majesty!" She yelled, elbowing him in the gut. Hitori snapped awake and gasped, clutching at his stomach.

"Guh!" he breathed, "Augh... Er, what?"

Hiyoko rolled her eyes and handed him her gun, "Take this, and take _that_." She gestured towards Tohri, "You know your job."

Hitori laughed, but there was no humor in it, "Ha, you're acting like you're the queen or something."

"Well with such a useless pair of-" Sakuya started, but Ryouta kicked him in the shin.

"Ignore him," Hiyoko sighed, frowning, "You're a swell king, Hitori. You too, Kazuaki. You're just shaken up..."

Hitori shrugged and walked over to Tohri's bleeding body. Whatever. Sakuya wasn't all wrong. The _pair_ of kings was useless. Only Kazuaki really made a good influence. Even now, he couldn't help but think it was a mistake for him to be king.

"I've said what I wanted to say to them," he said, lifting Tohri up and carrying him bridal style. He grimaced as he got blood on his jacket, "So I'll go now... Kazuaki... Stay safe. Actually, um... all of you, stay safe." With a hesitant nod, he exited through the door Nageki had left from, his long cloaks trailing behind him, leaving a faint line of Tohri's blood.

"I'm going in there," Ryouta said, "Do you want to come with me, Hiyoko?"

Hiyoko nodded and took his hand. She and Ryouta both pecked Sakuya on the cheek before the duo entered the apartment.

* * *

Yuuya's lips were tenderly pressed to Anghel's when Hiyoko and Ryouta burst into the room.

"Yoohoo!" Hiyoko cried, "O- Oh! Were you guys having a moment? Uh, we can leave-"

Yuuya laughed, pulling his lips away and smiling like nothing was wrong, " _Non_ , Hiyoko! I was hoping you would come in. I need to thank you."

"As do I," Anghel murmured, "You saved my beloved from permanent removal, and me from an eternity of suffering. For that I am grateful."

"No problem, Anghel," she said with a smile, "I'm glad you two are recovering okay!"

Yuuya winked, "We'll be right as rain in no time!" Ryouta seemed to be the first to notice Yuuya's eye.

"Y- Yuuya!" he gasped, "Your eye... it's so weird looking..."

Furrowing his brow, Yuuya poked at his eyelid, "Is it? The king did say that he figured I couldn't see. Ah, well. Soon enough I'll know what it looks like."

"It kinda looks like you got shot in the eye!" Hiyoko mused.

Ryouta elbowed her, "He did get shot in the eye."

"Oh... right."

"Hmm... I see... Perhaps I could get a sexy and mysterious eyepatch?" Yuuya mused, scratching his chin, "Well, it's simply a cross I must bear. A mark of the Demon Spores, perhaps?"

Ryouta blinked, "It's still really weird that you do that."

Yuuya shrugged, waving the comment away and wincing as he did so, "Ah, pay it no mind. I spent decades with _mon amour_ after all."

There was a brief silence and Ryouta nodded. Hiyoko smiled softly, "I... I'm sorry about everything that happened, Yuuya... I still don't know what he had against you, but-"

"You do not need to know, Hiyoko," Yuuya assured her, taking on that eerily serious tone he often did, "It's for the better." It unnerved her, and for the first time, Hiyoko noticed that he wasn't quite as okay as he claimed he was. Nor was Anghel... that much was clear. But what could they even say? Sorry? The entire situation was surreal, and every party seemed to be missing key details of what had happened. There was such a divide between the courts, that Hiyoko and Ryouta were at an absolute loss as to how to comfort them.

Ryouta coughed, trying to break the tension, "Okay, um... Well, I'm really sorry I... didn't help at all."

"You have done fine, Textoris," Anghel assured him softly, "It is I who did not help at all. I was a mere hindrance, and it is my fault the Technicolor Torturer did engage in such violence..."

"Don't say that, man!" Hiyoko yelled, startling him slightly, "Oops, sorry... But really... You couldn't have helped, okay? You were scared. I would have been too, if he'd hurt me. And it was _not_ your fault. I mean, I don't know what happened, but he was... being mean to you. He's a bad guy. You're the beacon of hope.”

Anghel was hesitant, but he nodded. Yuuya wasn't convinced, squeezing his hand and smiling weakly, "You have been through Hell's trials numerous times and returned without fail. You're still standing, Servant of God. Fate shall never tear us apart."

The Crimson Angel went crimson in the face and buried his into Yuuya's chest once again. Maturely, Hiyoko whispered, "Gaaaaaaay." Yuuya shot her a glare, but he was smirking.

"A- Anyway," Ryouta started, mortified by Hiyoko's behavior, "We'll leave you alone, but Sakuya told us to 'demand gratitude' from you.

"Ah," Yuuya said, pressing his lips together thoughtfully and stroking Anghel's back, "So it _was_ him who saved us... Well of course I'm grateful. He should know he need not demand it, aha..." Although he smiled, it was clear that he was lost in his own mind.

"Okay," Hiyoko said softly, "We'll pass that on to him."

"Is there anything else you need before you leave? A glass of water? Something to read? Nageki told me about some good books..." Ryouta tried to smile, but it was crooked and forced. The atmosphere was so melancholy in the dark court's abode, and he couldn't help wanting to leave as soon as possible.

"Well, there is one thing," Yuuya admitted, "And... it's alright if it cannot be done."

"Anything, Yuuya!" Hiyoko assured.

Yuuya nodded and tried to seem relaxed, but his head pounded and he grimaced, "Thank you, both of you... You see, I want to talk to Sakuya."


	12. Chapter 12

"Never. Absolutely not."

Ryouta tugged at Sakuya's sleeve and whined plaintively. He and Hiyoko had left the apartment and were now in the hallway, trying to convince their stubborn partner to speak to his estranged brother. This was proving to be quite the feat, as Sakuya had resorted to repeating the same three words every time they spoke to him for the past five minutes.

"Sakuya, please, he just wants to-"

"Never. Absolutely not."

"Stop saying that!!!"

"Never. Absolutely not."

Hiyoko sighed and dragged her hands down her face. Ryouta pouted and put his hands on his hips, "If you won't talk to us, fine... But know you're not just disappointing him. You're disappointing us."

Sakuya did not speak, but he didn't utter his prissy line either. He stood straight and tall, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the air above both of their heads. Eye contact would only cause him to melt under pressure. He knew better than that. His years of composure training had not faded after all this time.

"Th- The king will speak now."

Ryouta and Hiyoko averted their eyes to Kazuaki. Honestly, they all had forgotten he was there. Miraculously, his eyes were dry and he had even managed to stand, but he was still speaking in that odd way of his that he had used prior to Hitori's arrival. With his face still puffy from crying and his cloak somewhat damp and wrinkled, he did not look very regal, but even so, Sakuya let out a soft exhale and looked to his king.

"Of course, Highness," Hiyoko told him, bowing slightly and giving him a smile. Ryouta curtsied somewhat clumsily and Sakuya rolled his eyes, bowing only his head. Kazuaki, still disheveled, didn't seem to care.

"The King wishes for Sir Sakuya to visit with Sir Yuuya. It does not benefit the kingdom to have bitter rivalry. The King does not like that you fight. It will lead to war, and war is not okay."

Sakuya's posture shifted slightly and he brushed dust of his shoulder. True, he did not think Kazuaki to be a particularly worthy king, but he couldn't truly argue with him for wanting peace among the courts. It's unlikely that it would lead to war like he insinuated, but it could forge more of a divide between the already dysfunctional royal relationship. With a huff, Sakuya brushed his hair aside, "Fine. I shall speak with him. But only briefly, so he may thank me properly. Then, I shall be on my way. I have no obligation to associate with him more than this."

Kazuaki nodded, his crown tilting slightly to the side as he did so. Noticing this, he frowned and readjusted it. He drew his cloaks around him, "The King shall return to his palace now. He thanks Sir Sakuya for his cooperation."

Without another word, he walked briskly down the hallway, cloaks bouncing around him. The remaining trio noticed a certain air of regality, however thin, around him as he left. Although he was barely qualified, he was a king indeed. Wind billowed beneath his cloaks and he had a clear purpose in mind whenever he moved. Hitori's robes seemed to fall limply around him as he slowly sulked to and fro, and they gathered more dust than air.

Sakuya grumbled inaudibly and stepped towards the apartment door, drawing out a handkerchief and using it to touch the doorknob as though it was tainted. Hiyoko gave him a silent thumbs up and Ryouta blew him a kiss. However reserved he was, their affection meant the world to him, and he knew he would survive this awkward encounter so long as he could see them when he returned.

"...I shall see you when this chore is taken care of," Sakuya assured them, leaning down and kissing them each upon the head, "Perhaps it would be best if you headed home? After all... You never made that tea."

Ryouta smiled, taking his and Hiyoko's hands, "I- I'll get right on that. I promise! When you get home, we can all just relax and drink it, okay?"

"You can do it, Sakuya," Hiyoko told him, punching him in the arm. He winced and she smiled sheepishly, "Ha, sorry. I forgot what a wimp you were because of how cool you were with that sword. Now get in there, man!"

Sakuya rolled his eyes, but with a confident smirk on his face, he entered the apartment.

* * *

Faced with the dreary scene before him, that confidence was quick to fade.

The apartment, in Sakuya's opinion, looked like a jail cell. It had absolutely no decoration aside from some odd, cryptic looking drawings taped to the walls and a vase of long-dead roses in the corner. The sight of his brother's living arrangements made his nose wrinkle. He had lived in his old house for a long time, and it was certainly nothing like this. Clearly, Yuuya and Anghel had gone through a lot.

"S- Sakuya," Yuuya breathed. He had not meant nor wished to stutter, but he was frankly so surprised to see him that he couldn't even help it, "I... I can't believe you came."

"Do not think I care for you because of this," Sakuya muttered gruffly, gingerly stepping around scattered clothes and underwear to make his way to their bedside. How had the others neglected to tell him how much of a pigsty this place was? Disgusting, "I merely come here by request of the king."

"Do you mean the Nightmare Sage?" Anghel queried, a serious expression on his face despite his words, "Or the Minstrel of Sorrow?"

"I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about. Kazuaki sent me here."

"Ah..." Yuuya murmured, the small smile he had been holding fading slowly into a frown, "I see." As much as Sakuya claimed to dislike him, he couldn't help but feel unnerved by that frown. He's not sure he had ever seen him frown before... he was most certainly not okay. Despite this, he refused to let his pity get the best of him. Sakuya was still angry. He wanted answers.

"That's beside the point," Sakuya sneered, not having meant to sound so irritated, "I require proper gratitude for saving your sorry, mongrel hides."

"I'm sincerely grateful, Hallowed Magician, for the trials you endured to rescue me," Anghel said, and unlike Yuuya's mood, his was harder for Sakuya to read. Maybe, had he known Anghel more, he would have noticed the dull lack of enthusiasm in his strange words, as though he was a terrible actor and what he said was a mere script he was reading to amuse an audience.

"I too give you my humble thanks," Yuuya laughed quietly, "Genuinely. Even if you didn't do it for me... speaking of that, how did you even do it? I can't say I see you as a gunman."

"I used a sword. Far more dignified."

"How did you know how to use it?"

Sakuya had been expecting this question, but he didn't feel the need to answer. Back when he had lived with the Le Bels, he had taken a liking to fencing. In fact, he was quite skilled. The best in the family. It was a great source of pride for him, and only aided in securing him his position as heir to the family legacy. Or so he had thought. But that was in the past, was it not?

Admittedly, Tohri was the first person he had genuinely harmed with his saber skills, but he did not feel any remorse. He had endangered Hiyoko, and that would not be tolerated. Besides, they were all already dead. It’s not as though he had killed him.

“None of your concern,” Sakuya asserted, pointing his chin up with an air of betterness. A silence filled the room. For some time, Sakuya pondered asking Yuuya the deep, grating questions. Why did you abandon me in my time of need? What happened to you in all those years? Who was that man to you? Why did he do this? But his pride rose to the surface, too great for him to stoop to that level. “...That is all I came here for. I shall be leaving now.”

Sakuya turned on his heel and began the treacherous trek across the messy apartment. He made it halfway to the door, grumbling all the while, before an unfamiliar, melancholy voice called his name from behind him.

“Sakuya…” Was that… Yuuya? It barely sounded like him. The cheerful tone his voice always seemed to carry was completely gone, and in its place, a soft, listless monotone that rang of nihilism and regret.

“What is it, mongrel…?” Sakuya muttered, not giving him the honor of facing him again. Instead, he simply paused where he stood and crossed his arms. Yuuya sighed.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Sakuya scoffed. What else was new? He had apologized countless times, but without a reason, what sympathy was Sakuya expected to give.

“You are not forgiven,” Sakuya reminded him bitterly, eyes staring blankly at the concrete wall in front of him, “You will not be. Unless… unless you pull together _quite_ the pathetic little sob story to get me on your side. I have told you. I require answers in exchange for forgiveness.”

“I know,” Yuuya croaked. Sakuya’s eye twitched slightly with discomfort. Was he crying? He wanted to turn around and look, but he would not. He had no reason to give him that sort of respect. Anghel was quiet this entire time. He knew it was not his place to comment. Yuuya took a deep, somewhat ragged breath before continuing, “I just… I can’t tell you. I wish I could, but you’d… You’d just hate me even more, and-”

“I highly doubt that’s possible at this point.”

Yuuya’s words trailed off as Sakuya’s sharply hit the air. Even Sakuya himself was surprised at what he’d said. Did he… truly hate Yuuya? It certainly wasn’t out of the question. Whatever pity he felt for him was nothing more and nothing less. Simply an inconvenience born from their kinship, an instinct he could not control. Yes. Sakuya did hate Yuuya. That could not change until he confessed.

Yuuya was at a loss for words. There didn’t seem to be any sobbing. In fact, barely a breath was audible. Sakuya kept his tight and regulated, and Yuuya and Anghel’s were too quiet to perceive. It’s as though whatever hope Yuuya had held for forgiveness had been shattered in an instant, crushed in Sakuya’s dainty hands and tossed out the window, straight into the dump. There had been malice in his words. True, heartfelt malice. And it was now that Yuuya realized there may never be a way. Sakuya may never be his brother again.

“Okay.”

His voice was hoarse, but did not waver. It was all he could say. Okay. He understood. Sakuya wanted nothing to do with him, and he never, ever would. Sakuya closed his eyes and inhaled. _Stay calm, Le Bel,_ he commanded himself, _This mongrel must not have the satisfaction of seeing your emotions unravel._

“I am glad we’re on the same page. Goodbye.”

He kicked clothing and trinkets aside as he made his way to the door, and as he gripped the handle (this time too preoccupied to use his handkerchief), he could have sworn he heard a faint farewell.

“ _Adieu_ … Sakuya…”


	13. Chapter 13

The door closed behind him with a hollow click. Yuuya felt numb. His throbbing headache from no more than a minute earlier was now nothing but a dull pain. The bruises and scars that covered his body felt unreal, and none of them hurt. All that hurt, all that truly hurt, was his heart. Sakuya was gone. Sure, they would run into each other in town, and he would stick his nose up at him as he always did, but Yuuya knew he’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. It was over. Any chance they’d had was hereby eradicated.

“Yuuya…”

Hearing his name barely snapped him out of his stupor. In fact, he was still so dazed that he didn’t even pay any heed to the fact that Anghel had used his real name, “Mm?” 

“You are unwell.”

Yuuya opened his mouth to assure him that he was fine, but he realized who he was talking to, “...you’re right. I feel awful. I let him find you again, I was nearly eviscerated, my brother will never forgive me for what I did to him, and I’m beginning to regret my entire life.”

Anghel silently took his hand and Yuuya exhaled shakily. It sounded as though he would burst out crying again, and a few tears had welled at the side of his right eye. His left eye… it didn’t seem to be doing anything at all. Perhaps his tear ducts had been damaged. Yuuya didn’t seem to mind or care. He didn’t care about anything.

Or so he thought, until Anghel squeezed his hand. Then he remembered. He remembered why he did everything he’d done. He had murdered Shuu Iwamine for Anghel. He had murdered Tohri Nishikikouji for Anghel. He had abandoned his own flesh and blood in his time of need for Anghel. He had spent his life on the run. With Anghel.

“You… you did what you believed was right, Apostle,” Anghel murmured, having cried enough in the moment to warrant doing so now, “The Demon Spores clung to you like flies, but you persevered. The flame of your resilience burned on, and together, we continue to exist.”

“Is it even worth it, _mon amour_?” Yuuya choked, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to prevent more tears. Anghel reached up and wiped them away, but he couldn’t hold it back any longer. After all, why should he even bother? Anghel had seen him cry before… on the rare occasions he didn’t bother asking him to leave the room. Feeling pathetic, useless, and like an absolute failure, he sobbed onto Anghel’s shoulder, “Why do we keep going on like this…? If it weren’t for you… I don’t think I would have minded… if he’d erased me. Maybe we should just-”

“Cease spouting that folly immediately, Apostle!” Anghel commanded, suddenly seeming more like his old self. Though it was clear he was still distressed, his mind was currently focused on one goal. Anghel wanted to support Yuuya. He had supported him for years, after all. It was his turn to bear that burden, “We need not banish ourselves from Hell. If we did so, not even the Dark Lord himself could tell us where we would end up. Do you truly want that, Fated Love? An eternity of knowing nothing? No memories of who we were, of all the trials we faced in this life and all others before it? Our journeys of reincarnation may have ended here, Apostle of the Violet Rose, and our struggles may never truly fade, but the Blood of Sin I carry and the Cursed Heart you yield are a part of us now… Did you not say long, long ago, that your guilt is something you must carry with you?”

Yuuya snorted, getting snot on Anghel’s bare shoulder, “Th- That was, so fucking _long_ ago, Anghel, I- I… I had so much less under my belt.”

“That may be true, but you have grown,” Anghel whispered, “I… I also think of what it would be like to end things here. But the Red Lotus Fetters have bound us together… I would rather suffer with you than be numb alone.”

Anghel held Yuuya tightly to his chest, heart aching with every tear he cried. It was a little strange that due to their height difference, Yuuya was mostly crying onto Anghel's head, but he didn't seem to care. He just squeezed him tighter.

"Anghel I... I was so useless, I tried to save you," Yuuya sniffled, "But... he had my gun. That was _m- my_ gun..."

"There, there," Anghel murmured, "Must I tell you the same thing you told me? You tried your best, valiant knight. For that, I love you."

Yuuya chuckled, pulling away slightly and wiping the side of his face, "You're too good to me, Anghel. You're far more pure than I ever was... I love you too."

"Purity is in the eye of the beholder," Anghel corrected him, pecking him on the cheek, "I believe that your heart is pure. Your actions do not define you."

"I guess... I'm sorry for crying."

"Do not apologize, Apostle. You know I only wish you the best," Anghel forced himself to smile slightly, "Besides... I spent the majority of your incapacitation in tears myself. 'Tis only fair."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Yuuya started gravely, his tear-stained face taking on a serious air, "...what did I look like?"

Anghel couldn't say he was expecting that question, nor was he prepared to answer it, "...let us say that you looked less than charming."

Yuuya laughed emotionlessly, "Quite a pity... And to think Hiyoko also had to see me like that..." He paused for a moment and furrowed his brow, "And another lovely lady, I believe... Who was the other female voice?"

"I don't know," Anghel admitted, "I must say I was not paying much attention."

"Hm... a mystery... Cool."

It seemed at this point, that although neither of them were fully stable, they were not at risk of sobbing again. However, they were both dreadfully exhausted.

"As odd as this'll sound considering I just woke up, I'm dead tired," Yuuya mumbled, yawning right on cue. As he did so, Anghel clambered to his side, climbing under the covers with him and pressing up to his side. Yuuya let out a soft, contented breath, "I wasn't really asleep through any of that, after all."

"I too desire sleep's sweet release," Anghel agreed softly, nuzzling his face into Yuuya's side. Yuuya winced slightly, but moved his arm to cradle Anghel's neck, settling his own down on his pillow.

"Mm. Nice," Yuuya murmured, letting his eyes close slowly, "...I love you, _mon amour_."

"I love you too, Violet Rose."

As the sun began to rise on Holiday Star, Yuuya and Anghel fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Although they knew their nightmares would return in time and they would likely never feel truly safe again, in that moment, curled around each other, they felt okay. Their traumas for today were over.

They had each other, and tomorrow was a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe i finally fucking finished this.
> 
> Anyway, read the rest of [The Knight Slept (After)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4954798/chapters/11376751) now, if you want to continue the saga of suffering.


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